Destiel First Kiss One-Shots
by Transient Mischief -Michi
Summary: Destiel First Kiss One-Shots. You heard me. ;) I don't know how many "chapters" I'll be able to write but this is going to be a collection of Destiel first kiss one-shots, completely and entirely unrelated to one another. I figured I'd just post what I write together rather than separately. Prepare yourself for a bit of angst and a lotta fluff. Fun is a must. Sorry, no smut.
1. Quivery Feelings

**A/N**

 _First off, I just have to say that none of these characters are mine, and, unfortunately, neither is the art._

Hey, y'all! Welcome to my mind. Most of these stories grow from day dreams. Yup, you heard me. I'm that obsessed. Supernatural (and therefore Destiel) is relatively new to me, but as soon as I discovered both, I fell in love with both.

Like I said in the summary, I'm not sure how many of these shorties I'll be able to write, what with life and novel-writing and short-story competitions and especially Camp NaNo happening tomorrow, so I might write three total, I might write seven, I might write more. I'm transient like that xD

In any case, however much or little I write, I really hope y'all enjoy, because that's what these will be meant for, indulgent happiness.

Unless I say otherwise, these stories aren't set in any particular season of the show and don't contain spoilers.

Thanks for reading!

P.S. My #1 goal is to write a good, heartfelt story while keeping the characters IN CHARACTER. If I succeed, please let me know, and if I don't, please tell me how I can improve. And, obviously, if you have any other comments, good or bad, I'd love to hear them. Thanks!

* * *

Castiel studied the vague shapes of passing trees and hills and distant houses in the dim lights of the moon and the reflectors passing orange, orange, orange on the two-lane highway. It was dark; it was late, actually, and he didn't know exactly why he was there, in the impala with Dean. There were other things he could be doing, people he could be saving, demons he could be killing, and yet he didn't leave. He sat in silence, staring glassy-eyed out the window, somehow still aware of each sideways glance the hunter threw his way.

"You ok, Cas?" he asked, after a while, hands faintly flexing on the steering wheel.

"I'm fine, Dean." Castiel replied, not turning from his view. That answer was mostly true. He _was_ physically ok. Unfortunately, he had realized about exactly an hour ago that the strange things his vessel allowed him to feel were what humans called _love_. And that was… That was not good. Probably. He wasn't sure.

Turning his head a fraction or two, Cas let his eyes slide left, just enough to make out the contours of Dean Winchester's face. It was a strong face, tanned and masculine and generally so readable. It was a face Cas had studied and scrutinized, trying to understand. It wasn't til later it occurred to him he may have been studying it for other reasons. For fascination. For memorization. To recall to his mind when days and weeks passed without physical nearness

"You're about as silent as a smoked corpse tonight, buddy. There… anything… you wanna talk about?" Dean's head bobbed as he spoke, and he glanced over at Cas, his left eyebrow rising a little higher than the right.

Cas looked at Dean a moment, then faced the road and lightly rubbed his palms on his trenchcoat. "There _was_ something I wanted to talk about…" He stopped.

"You… want to tell me what that was?" Dean questioned, his comical eyebrow-raise reappearing.

Cas exhaled slowly through his nostrils. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. Dean let pass a moment or two of silence, nodding slowly, watching the road, and seemingly thinking to himself. Castiel let his gaze wander as his thready heartbeat made itself known in his chest. "What would you do," he suddenly asked, a thought occurring to him, "if you knew this were your last night on earth?"

"Spend it with you and Sammy," Dean answered immediately. Then cocked his head to one side and added, "Get laid, probably. Drink, definitely. Pie, of course."

"Of course," Cas replied with amusement.

Dean's eyes flickered to him, then out at the road again, tilting the wheel left as the road gently curved. "… Why do you ask?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Just curious I guess."

"What would you do?" Dean looked at him and something in the curve of his lips expressed the worry he was trying very hard to conceal.

"Spend it with you," Cas answered.

Dean studied him for a long moment, then looked away and swallowed, his throat bobbing with saliva, hands flexing more noticeably this time. "Cas," he muttered. "Are you in trouble? Is there something I need to know?"

He was worried. And no wonder, after what Cas had probably just implied. "No. No, Dean, I'm not in any danger. No more than usual, anyway." He looked at his hands in his lap. At his fingernails, chipped and dirty, and wondered how he had managed to do that to them. Dean shifted next to him, and Cas turned his lips with thought. "It's just that I've realized something very recently, and I don't know what to do with the information." Even though it when it was _about_ Dean Castiel found himself seeking Dean's advice.

"Ok… Is it a good somethin' or a bad somethin'?"

"That's the problem. I'm not sure." He focused on Dean and his lean, battle-scarred body. His strong jaw had just the showings of stubble from a long day gone unshaven. His broad, round shoulders were still defined even beneath his signature leather jacket. His knuckled hands and long fingers curled around the wheel, and Cas imagined a world in which this man could love him back. The thought did something strange to the dark hairs on his arms and legs, like his skin was prickling, similar to the way he had felt one day in northern Maine when it was very cold. An involuntary shiver coursed through his chest. His body felt agitated somehow, like he needed to move and expel the excess energy. He didn't, however. Besides sliding his hands on his thighs a second time.

"You're not making this easy, Cas," the sound of Dean's growling voice shook Castiel from his distraction, but he didn't turn and didn't reply. He stared out the window at the passing trees. Dean sighed. "This realization… Is it… dangerous? Would it hurt anyone? Yourself?"

Cas' reflection in the glass tilted its head, its eyebrows scrunching as it considered. "I don't believe so… There could be some… minor… personal harm, but nothing… life-threatening."

"Nothing life-threatening?" Dean confirmed.

"No." The angel glanced at him.

"Alright then…" Dean's head lulled forward. "Alright then, I think you should act on it, see where it takes you."

The angel's heart did a strange fluttery thing. "You think I should act on it," he confirmed.

"With what you've told me… yeah, Cas. That's what I would do."

"I see…" Castiel blinked and willed his hands still before he could rub his palms a third time. "Thank you."

"No problem. Tell me how it turns out."

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

Castiel licked his lips. "Would you stop the car, please?"

"What—here? Why?"

"I… will explain in a moment."

With a shift in his shoulderblades halfway between a confused shrug and a hunch of annoyance, Dean complied with the angel's strange request, glancing in his rearview mirror, then easing off the gas and turning the wheel a bit to the right, hitting the road's gravely shoulder and bouncing along a few hundred feet before slowing to a total stop. He turned the gears to park, and then glanced over at Castiel in his seat. "Now what?" he asked.

Cas' lips parted ever-so-slightly. Now… he was supposed to act. Yet it was rather difficult to move. He looked to Dean, and Dean raised his eyebrows, and Cas clenched his hands. _Act._ Flying from the car with his angel wings, Castiel disappeared from his seat for a split second.

Then reappeared on Dean's side of the car, his knees in the seat on either side of Dean's legs, effectively straddling him.

Startled, Dean freaked, his hands gripping Cas' waist and pushing him back before he even knew what the hell was happening. " _Cas_! _Goddammit! What the hell!_ " he swore, alarm apparent in his face.

He breathed in quick, jerky breaths, his nerves rattled. Understandably. _Stupid_ , the angel chided himself. With faintly shaking hands, he raised his palms and touched the hunter's jaw while Dean stared up at him, his mouth parted, still rasping slightly from adrenaline. The moonlight just caught the green pools of his eyes, and that strange prickling of Cas' arms happened again, like cool ice down four appendages, yet strangely pleasurable. He liked the feeling. His lips twerked with the smallest smile, and he slid his hands upwards, grazing on the light stubble of Dean's jaw, then finding his ears and stopping there, holding Dean's face in the palms of his hands.

Something in the Winchester started to shift, the fright and aggravation disappearing, replaced with something else, something deep and indecipherable while the hands that still gripped his waist changed from stiff and hostile to… somehow strangely tense and soft at the same time.

Finally understanding the term _heart in throat_ , Cas braced himself and leaned slowly forward. Dean's eyes followed him, his eyelids hooding as he got close. The hunter's breath was quieter now but still just as quick. He didn't stop Castiel. He didn't say a word, so Cas tilted his head to the right and pressed closer, letting his eyes fall shut and roll back in his skull as his mouth met Dean's. Slowly, slowly, gently, but not light. Soft and moist with his dampened lips, but not light. Dean moved against him, kissing him back, and Cas' fingers curled, his thumbs stroking the soft skin before Dean's ears. The hands on his waist tightened, holding him, drawing him closer. Soft became deep, their mouths moving in sync, their lips melding, crushing, their tongues tasting. Slow became urgent, gentle hard, and Cas found that Dean's arms were slowly entwining around his back and locking and trapping him close, and Cas' hands were crawling into the glinting brown of Dean's hair. His body shifted forward, his fingers tingling, his pulse thump-thump-thumping in his chest. A growl vibrated up Dean's throat and through Cas' lips and something inside of him went soft with need. But his lungs tightened, and with mutual breathlessness they broke apart, separating a few thin inches, their lips red and wet with saliva.

Dean stared at him, and Castiel looked at Dean and shuddered, his hands twitching, almost trembling in Dean's mussed hair. He found it difficult to think, to order his thoughts, to keep his eyes from dropping down to lips, and when he finally tried to attempt speech, Dean interrupted him with his mouth, reaching forward, his neck stretching, his arms tightening until their lips met, and another sort of desperate _confirmation-of-reality_ kiss took place. The swelling of Cas' heart made him smile through it, grin almost, hardly holding back some type of giddy laugh. When they broke apart, Dean looked at his smile, his eyes, with some strange sense of wonderment, and Castiel's heart couldn't take it. He curled forward, his face hiding in the crevice between Dean's neck and shoulder. "I love you," he said against the skin there, but the words came out quivery and croaked, and he didn't know if Dean heard him so he said it again, his body tightening, octopus-like around Dean.

Something like a shiver chased its way down the hunter's back. Cas could feel it happen, he was so close. And then Dean was gripping him harder. "Your… your revelation?" he growled, his voice a little hoarse just as well.

"Yes," Cas nodded in his neck.

"Thank God."

"For what?" Cas queried in his delirious, befuddled mind.

"Thank God I told you to act."

The strangest sensation of bubbly warmth spreading in his chest concerned Cas for a moment, before he realized it was another of those recently discovered very _good_ feelings, and contented himself, cuddling closer to the human beneath him.

"Cas?" Dean whispered. "Look at me."

Eyes opening, Cas drew back enough for Dean to see his eyes. The hunter stared deep, his green, shimmery eyes switching between Cas'. A jerky smile twitched up his lips, and he said, "I love you back."


	2. Flickering Crystalline Shards

**A/N**

This chapter takes place in season 8. If you haven't seen that, I suppose it is a little spoilery.

(If you haven't seen it and don't want to be spoiled, don't continue reading)

This is the season in which Dean and Cas escape from Purgatory. This chapter is set the first time Castiel appears to Dean since he escaped Purgatory. If you don't remember, he appears in the bathroom right behind Dean, and Dean sees him in the reflection of the mirror.

* * *

Dean _heard_ him first—the slight ruffle, the beats of what could only be wings—and his head jerked up. _Cas_. Right there, in the mirror, standing behind him with his scruffy Purgatory beard and his messed up trenchcoat. Dean's heart stuttered to a halt even though he didn't believe it. It wasn't real— _Cas_ wasn't real—he couldn't be—and Dean _knew_ when he turned around the angel would be gone again, and it would be another mistake, another delusion. He almost didn't want to move, to turn and look away for the split second it would take to face Cas. Yet he _would_ turn. He _did_ turn because he had to see, he had to know for certain, for sure.

He spun around, dread pooling in his stomach, and glued his eyes to the angel's still there. _Still there_. _Real?_

"Hello, Dean," Castiel grated.

Dean's heart exploded, and he gripped Cas's forearms, feeling the warmth beneath the dirty cloak— _real?—_ and shoved Cas's sleeve up his arm, sliding a silver dagger across his flesh. "Ahh," grunted Cas, and that was all. No scream, no hiss, no shapeshifter. _Real_. Dean's eyes darted up, and tension filled his muscles, his tendons standing taut and sharp and strong. He pushed Cas back, back until his back met the wall. He didn't know what he was doing, he didn't know. And then his mouth slammed down on Castiel's. Not sweet, not slow, not gentle. Vicious and hard and desperate and _needy_. A growling whine rumbled in his throat, an anxious sound of yearning and want and _passion_ , and their mouths moved, their jaws shifted, connected, harder, deeper. Dean's tongue traced Cas' lips and parted them, and then he bent his head and pushed deeper, Cas meeting him half way. His left hand came up to the angel's neck gripping, gripping, curling in the dark twirls and crushing Castiel to him, trapping him in the tiny space between the wall and Dean, without a chance of escape. His heart pounded, pounded, pounded, and somewhere in his mind he still didn't believe this was _real_.

 _What the hell are you doing?_ the thought slammed through his mind like a steak through the heart. _Kissing Castiel. Kissing Castiel?_ The truth shattered like flickering crystalline shards, bits and pieces scoring his mind, and abruptly he broke away from Cas whose mouth trailed after him but didn't quite reach. Both their eyes flew open.

Forest green. Cerulean blue.

The hunter stared with parted lips and quick, gasping breaths while his angel inhaled somewhat slower yet deeply, deeply. The vibrating pulse of Dean's heart threaded in his fingertips and the scratches on his face and in his body and his lips. _His lips._ He stared at Castiel.

Swallowed. Thick, hard.

The angel tilted his head a fraction in that slightly confused, concerned way that Dean loved so much. But then he lifted his left hand as if to touch his cheek, and Dean grabbed the wrist in midair and stopped the movement in place. Cas couldn't touch him. If he touched him Dean would crack, and he couldn't crack.

He didn't know what he was thinking. _He didn't know what he was doing_. Cas was his _friend_. His friend, not this.

 _But he is_. _He_ _is._ He had been for so long, and Dean just wouldn't admit it, _couldn't_ admit it, _never_ admitted it.

He had never kissed another man before. That should have caused him some distress but somehow, it didn't. It was just a statement of fact in his otherwise slipping tornado of thoughts. And why were the tears forming in his eyes and why didn't he care about the words, and the excuses, and the explanations? And why did he just want grab Cas and meet his lips halfway?

The angel's gaze flicked away for a moment, uncertain, hesitant, then back again. His mouth moved as if he thought there was a need to say something and yet didn't know what to say.

"Don't talk," Dean hissed before he could, _growled_ , choking back on the saliva in his throat. "Don't you dare talk, you bastard."

Castiel didn't blink at the angry words. He shut his mouth, instead. He stood still and silent. Then something in his eyes flashed, something decided in his mind, and he pushed back against Dean's grip, and Dean let him. He curled a hand around his neck, and pulled him down. And Dean let him. Met him half way. Crying. Twisting his arms around the angel, clutching at his back as Cas' wrapped around his neck. And he kissed him back.

Hard. And deep. And breathlessly.

They didn't talk anymore, not a word. They kissed and, though Dean knew that talking would have to come eventually, _so much talking_ , he couldn't face that right now. He couldn't. He just needed Castiel, and Cas needed him, and that was all either of them could think about.

And when their mouths eventually broke apart Dean buried his face in Castiel's neck, not even able to smell the sweat and dirt and blood and musk of _Cas_ through his wet breaths.

He just held him, and, for once in his life, he let Cas hold him back.


	3. Dean is trippy No, not like that

The first time he saw Cas smile was an ordinary day for a hunter. They were on an ordinary park bench watching ordinary children at play. The smile was only there for a few seconds, and it wasn't directed at Dean. It was just a smile, a nod at his hands in his lap, and then it was gone again and they were talking business. It shouldn't have stuck in Dean's memory. Really, he hadn't even realized he had remembered it until that moment.

With the demon's fist around his throat. The breath was trapped in his lungs, and the woman with the monster inside was straddling him not in the fun way. His knife was gone, far out of reach, and he had no means of defense. A headache was pounding, pulsing through his skull like an emergency alarm. Shadows were swishing like demon smoke at the edges of his vision, and his straining, flapping hands were growing weaker by the second. The demon lady's face slashed with a wicked grin, but all Dean saw behind his eyes was the silhouette of Castiel's face and the slight smile on his lips.

 _I wish I could see him one more time_.

The will to move, to struggle, to _breathe_ , was leaving his body. His eyes turned helplessly to Sammy, unconscious on the floor across the room. He grit his teeth and let his eyes wander upwards towards the demon and past her, sightlessly. His hands twitched, his eyelids rolled shut, and the last slippery thought that whispered its way through his mind was… _Cas._

White light erupted in his vision, and the ringing in his ears was overwrought with the shrieking of a woman. All at once, his body was inhaling great chunks of air, and he was choking and hacking and protectively curling his hand around his aching throat. Fuzzy shapes formed in his vision, blurry through the streaming tears. A familiar silhouette came towards him and hunkered beside him. Fingers brushed against his skin, and a coolness glazed across his body like water. Instantly, the pain in his neck and the fogginess of his vision were gone and the hoarse and harshness of his breathing eased. He blinked his eyes up at the figure before him. "Cas?" he hissed.

The angel didn't speak at first, watching him instead with downturned lips and a crease between the eyebrows. He was crouched beside Dean, his hair in its usual ruffle, his eyes their normal inquisitive cobalt. Wait, "normal"? _Normal?_ The word struck Dean as ridiculous in its reference to Castiel. He was anything but normal.

God, he was perfect.

"You should have called me sooner," Cas murmured.

Dean blinked as the angel rose to his feet. "Called? I didn't call you."

He turned around without replying and crossed to where Sammy lay sprawled across some books he'd knocked from a shelf when he was thrown against the wall. "You prayed 'Cas,'" he clarified. "That was enough." Again Castiel knelt, and again he laid his healing hand on a Winchester. Dean watched, feeling very scared and having no damn idea why. It wasn't Sammy. Sammy had taken worse hits, and now that Cas was here, there was no doubt in Dean's mind he'd be alright. But Dean couldn't seem to shake the fear, and he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Castiel. He followed the hand that reached out, noted the haze of stubble on his jaw, studied the perfect imperfection of his floppy hair. Remembered that smile, that very first smile on the bench at the park, and wondering how many times since he'd tried to earn another.

No, the fear he was feeling was definitely not about Sammy.

Cas straightened. "He's going to be fine. He just had the wind knocked out of him. Should wake up in an hour or so."

Turning back, he stood over Dean, and offered him a hand. The hunter took it with gratitude, letting Castiel pull him to his feet. The action drew them unexpectedly close, and the twilight splashed through the window, shining over Cas' eyes and highlighting the mix of anger and concern resonating on his face. Dean forgot how to breathe, and their gripping hands remained laced for a silent stretch of seconds too long to be natural.

A tiny sliver of dark on Cas' cheekbone caught Dean's attention, and without thinking, his hand came up, palm settling on Castiel's cheek, thumb brushing at the fallen eyelash. A startled look crinkled Cas' eyes. And then, knocking Dean's hand away, he took a quick step back.

Hurt rose unbidden in Dean's chest before he could try to tamp it down. _Dammit._ His hand curled closed in the air before he let it drop to his side, and he cleared his throat, looking away.

"Why didn't you call me?" Cas demanded.

Dean blinked. "It was just a few demons," he answered. "It shouldn't have been a problem for Sammy and me."

"Clearly, it was a little more than that." Cas gestured at the bodies around the room, demons he and his brother had killed before Cas arrived.

"Yeah," Dean raised a hand helplessly. "They took us by surprise. It wasn't the first time. Why are you upset?"

"Why am I-?" Cas broke himself off, scrutinizing Dean as if that were the most absurd question he had ever heard. "Why am I upset?" he repeated. "I'll tell you why I'm upset." His eyes flashing, the angry angel stepped forward, sweeping his hand through the air and shouting, "You would have died!" Startled, Dean stumbled back a step, but his foot caught on something and instantly he lost his balance. His eyes going wide, he threw out his hands to grab on anything for purchase. With a grunt, he went down, his back hitting the floor, his head pounding, his teeth grit with pain. A groan slipped between his clenched teeth, his head throbbing. "Son of a _bitch_!" he hissed, aloud this time. A shadow fell over his eyelids, and two fingers touched his forehead. The pain ebbed to nothing, and that's when he realized he _had_ managed to grab hold of something as he fell. The silky feel of it was still clutched tight in his hand. A breath stirred a hair on his forehead, and with horror, his eyes flew open.

Cas was hovering above him. His hands and knees spread to either side of Dean's body. The tie around his throat gripped tight in Dean's fist. "Dammit, Cas, I didn't mean to do that!" he said, a heat that wasn't entirely embarrassment creeping up his neck.

Cas' angel blue eyes were… looking at him and were… _mesmerizing_. The grip of his knees to either side of Dean's body, the rebellious twift of hair settled on his forehead were doing strange things to Dean's stomach.

The fear returned in waves.

"I was not harmed," Cas murmured quietly.

Dean couldn't seem to find his tongue.

"Forgive me," he continued, "for yelling." His gaze flicked away, and Dean twitched, trying to catch it again. Shaking his head the merest bit the angel said, "I was just worried. I… would be very unhappy if you were to die, Dean Winchester."

His eyes returned. The grip Dean had on his tie curled minutely tighter. "You're forgiven," Dean whispered. "Am I?"

Castiel tilted his head. "Dean…" he said. Just the one word. Grated in his usual voice, except this time it carried, _There is nothing to forgive,_ along with it. Dean sucked the smallest wedge of his lower lip between his teeth and bit down. His head was loud with noise, but none of it coherent. He stared at Castiel's lips, parted still the smallest fraction. He shouldn't be noticing, shouldn't be here with Cas' tie curled in his fist. He _should_ let go. Instead, he yanked down. The angel inhaled a breath of must and gunpowder and probably whatever the hell else Dean smelled like, and then their mouths connected.

 _Shock._ A shiver quavered through Dean's belly, and Cas pressed down, kissing back, lips melding, twisting. Dean didn't know what the hell he was doing, but, _oh_ , the feel of Cas kissing him, the taste of his lips were like nothing he had felt before. Dean's hand buried in the lapels of that damn trenchcoat, as if the grip he had on his tie wasn't tight enough. His neck lifted off the ground, needing to be closer, harder. Some small sound reverberated in Castiel's chest when their tongues pressed together, and the world tilted. His head fell back against the hard stone floor, and it took everything Dean possessed not to shudder like some chick after her first French kiss. The problem was the sight before him when he opened his eyes. Cas. His face flush, his lips parted, his eyelashes long and dark against pale skin.

Dean managed to hold himself together for a solid five seconds. After that, all bets were off, and he was pushing, not pulling, meeting Cas' lips while his body moved, twisted, somersaulting, until the angel lay beneath him and Dean straddled him above. He grinned against angel lips, and then a hand touched his neck. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers sliding into his hair, and the smile dropped. A throaty, groany _growl_ Dean hadn't meant to make worked its way up his throat, and he didn't even feel bothered by it because this was… this was more than he ever thought… ever thought he'd get to have. This was madness. Really, really good madness, and the achey mess of feelings colonizing his stomach were welcome to stay if this… if this was really real, if Cas was kissing him and holding him and…

Dean's mouth trailed down. First to a chin rough with bristles, scratchy beneath his palm and weirdly freakin' good. And then up the line of a jaw, slowly, drunkenly. He found a space just behind an ear and paused there, his breathing labored, his lips moist. The scent of Castiel's hair, of clean linen and the slight tang of sweat, was heady and eminently addictive. He buried his nose deeper. Breathed him in.

"Dean," the sound of the angel's gruff voice, rougher even than usual, distracted him from his hazy, crazy thoughts.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, a coarse whisper.

The fingers in his hair trembled, sliding through it before settling on the place where his neck met his back. "Promise me… next time… you'll pray _before_ the battle."

Dean smile against skin, kissing Cas' hair twice. "I dunno, Cas. I'm of the mind to ask forgiveness rather than permission." He kissed his delicate flesh right there by his ear.

Fingernails scraped into his neck, and a shiver quivered through his muscles. " _Dean_."

"I promise," he whispered immediately.

"Thank you."

He pulled up, and his green-eyed gaze slid to that of the angel's. The look on his face was almost too much—fogged and delirious and adoring. It made him crazy. An unavoidable smile broke across his face, and he bit the inside of his cheek to try to contain it.

"Is this ok?" he croaked, just to make sure, just to be certain.

"Dean… This is perfect."

He was sinking down for a kiss before he realized. His left hand caressed Cas' cheek, his thumb grazing his face in soft sweeps. They inhaled between kisses and all immediate thought faded.

Until a sound like a pained groan came from behind them and startled their lips apart. _Sammy_. "I thought you said he wouldn't wake for an hour or more," Dean grunted.

"Clearly I underestimated the vitality of the Winchesters."

Thoughts slipped to innuendo, and Dean's eyebrows quirked. "You won't make that mistake again," he promised. It took a great deal of effort to ground his thoughts, and the kiss he pressed into Castiel's lips didn't help. But Sam groaned again, and Dean mimicked it before rising, gripping Cas' forearm and dragging him up with him. He helped Cas dust off his beloved jacket, which earned him a smile that made his heart skip, before clearing his throat and doing the same to his jeans.

He knelt beside his brother. "How ya feelin', buddy?"

The giant cracked his eyes open gingerly at the sound of Dean's voice and sighed, touching his head. "Not so bad, honestly. Better than I would have expected."

Dean glanced at the healing angel standing beside him with darkened lips and hid a smile. "You've got Cas to thank for that."

"Oh?" Sammy glanced up as Dean hauled him to his feet. "Thanks, Cas."

"No problem," the angel answered stoically.

"Alright then…" Sammy muttered, glancing around the space. "Are we done here?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "Cas took out the last one. Why don't we get outta here." He glanced at them both. "How does pie sound?"

Sam nodded. "Sure, I could go for pie."

"Alright, then." Dean grinned, grabbing Cas' hand and lacing their fingers together. The angel looked at him with a surprised smile, and Sammy looked at _both_ of them with pure astonishment, his eyebrows rising.

Dean smirked. "Let's go get that pie."


	4. Kissing Lessons

The couple on the screen moaned, their bodies entwining, all arms and hands and mouths pressed together. Cas' eyes narrowed, finding the movements strangely fascinating. Dean was in the shower, having decided to do so twenty minutes ago when Sam left to research at the local library, leaving Cas alone with the remote control. Leaning forward, elbows on knees, he watched the two continue their groping and mouth-crushing. He had seen a few kisses, but this one was different somehow. Deeper, though he wasn't sure why. His head tilted to one side as their lips twisted together, their mouths opening, and… Cas' eyes widened a fraction. Their tongues were touching and winding between their lips. That was… very unexpected. Something stirred in his middle. Some faint emotion in his chest that was unidentifiable to him; something that felt crushing and uplifting all at once.

The act of kissing involved more than just lips, apparently, and that was very intriguing. _Humans_ and their complexities, their emotions that ebbed and flowed, their static life force that was electric and vibrant and beautiful, were _entirely_ intriguing to him. Some, of course, more than others. Those, especially, whose souls shone in many-colored hues, like the Winchesters'. The pulsing lights of their souls made them two of the most fascinating creatures with whom Castiel had every come in contact. Dean's, specifically. Something about him had always drawn Cas closer, captivated. Since their first meeting he had wanted to study Dean close, closer still, closer than he'd ever managed to get even when he stretched the bounds of _"personal space."_

The conversation on the television focused Castiel's glazed gaze, and he realized the pair had finally stopped kissing. They stood talking very close to one another, and Cas wished he hadn't missed the few seconds prior. He wondered what it would be like to kiss someone like that. To kiss with everything you have. He wondered what it would be like… to kiss Dean like that.

The one kiss he had shared with the demon Meg, the one he had learned from the pizza man, had been strange, pleasurable in its way, but also distasteful, tasting the darkness of the soul inside the body. It would be different kissing a human, a _good_ human with a soul like Dean's, a human Castiel cared deeply about. A human he… he thought he actually loved. He'd never been in love so he wasn't completely sure, but the things he felt… He was fairly certain that's what love was meant to feel like.

The problem was, he wasn't sure if he could do it right. _Kiss_ right. He had managed ok with Meg, but he didn't know how to kiss like the couple in the show.

The running water of the shower in the bathroom shut off, and Cas glanced in that direction. He blinked at the door and suddenly had a thought. _I wonder… I wonder if Dean would teach me._

* * *

Dean finished shaving and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, leaving his hair a damp mess to worry about later. The bathroom was too hot and stuffy to deal with any longer. Kicking out the door, he crossed the room to the mini-fridge and bent to retrieve a beer, grabbing a knife on the counter and popping off the lid. The sound of commercialized voices drew his attention after his first taste, and he glanced over at Cas sitting on the bed in his trenchcoat in front of the tv but looking right at him.

Glancing around the room, he asked, "Sammy not back yet?"

"He's only been gone twenty-three minutes," Castiel replied. "It is probably the research will take longer than that."

"I wish he'd hurry the hell up," Dean grunted. "He's supposed to pick up pie on the way back." He took another swig of his beer and offered a bottle to Castiel. The angel silently shook his head, and Dean shrugged, leaning against the counter to let his over-heated skin cool in the drier air.

"Dean…" Cas began. He muted the tv. "I was wondering if you would help me with something." Dean knew the angel's eyes were blue, but in the dimly lit room they looked dark and curious when they glanced hesitantly up at him, and something in his abdomen twitched with that familiar and unpleasant feeling. Immediately, he shut it down, denying its existence. "Course," he said, his voice smooth. "What do you need help with?" The cold neck of the bottle felt good in his hands, so he focused on that, forcing himself to relax on the counter, his elbows pressed into the fake marbled top.

The angel shifted, his mouth making a small, uncertain movement. "I don't know if I should be asking you this as I've realized it may make you uncomfortable… But… I was wondering if you would be willing to teach me how to kiss."

Air somehow got trapped in Dean's throat, and he found himself coughing on absolutely nothing at all. Coughing until his eyes watered, and he was drinking down beer to keep his throat _in_ his throat, blinking repeatedly against the threatening tears and breathing slowly until the pain settled to a distracting soreness.

"Are you ok?" Cas asked, half-risen from the bed, eyebrows puckered with concern.

"I'm fine! I'm fine," Dean bellowed, making a _sit-the-hell-back-down_ gesture until Castiel complied. Dean shifted his stance agitatedly. "Did you honestly just freakin' ask me to teach you how to kiss?" he demanded. "The tv not educational enough for you? What about the 'pizza man'? _Meg_?" Uncomfortably, Dean realized his heart was yammering in the cage of his chest, and his hand was shaking so much he had to set down his beer before he dropped it. Then he immediately scooped it back up and drank the rest of it down because hell if he needed some intoxication.

"I know the basic mechanics," Cas clarified, hunching a little more on the bed. "But I don't know to kiss like they do," he spread his fingers at the tv. "And Meg was a demon. I would very much like to experience kissing a human."

"You want to kiss a human!" Dean swept his hand through the air. "How about someone like Chastity?" Opening the fridge, he grabbed another bottle and popped the lid off before he even realized what the hell he was doing. _What the hell_ am _I doing?_ he thought. _Kiss Cas? Kiss Cas! I can't do that. I cannot do that._ He hated how much he wanted to.

Cas' eyebrows drew closer together. "I would rather learn the intimacies of such a practice from someone I know. From someone I care about."

Dean's head jerked up. Someone he…? His eyes met those of the angel's across the hotel bedroom. Cas' face was still and stoic like usual, the tv's lights dancing across his face. But somewhere about the eyes was a reflection of hope. And doubt. A doubt that was growing with every damn second that passed. He was suddenly uncertain. And then he was crestfallen, as if he already expected what Dean's answer would be. His eyes twitched between Dean's, and then his gaze dropped to the carpet. "Nevermind," he ground. "I knew it was probably a bad idea."

It was a terrible idea. A _god-awful_ idea.

Castiel sat still and silent, accepting and unnaccusing, the remote sitting forgotten on the bedspread beside him. A lank of dark hair drooped across his forehead, a curved shadow, crescent-shaped on his skin. The deep whirlpool blue of the eyes of the angel Castiel flashed in Dean's mind, open and naïve and hopeful.

The bottle wobbled where it met the countertop unevenly. It didn't settle its quavering until Dean was halfway across the room. Castiel looked up with surprise, and then Dean grabbed his forearms and yanked him to his feet.

"Dean?" he asked with some confusion.

"Alright," Dean rumbled. "I'll teach you how to kiss, Cas, just stop your damn wallowing."

"I'm an angel of the Lord, Dean. I don't wal—"

Growling, Dean tugged Castiel forward and effectively shut him up with his mouth. Grunting in surprise, Cas stiffened, and a spasm of trepidation lanced through Dean's stomach. He jerked back, heat creeping up his neck. "I'm sorry—" he muttered.

Cas shook his head. "No, my apologies. You took me by surprise." Visibly relaxing, he said, "Try again?"

Dean wasn't afraid of anything, not really. Ok, he was afraid of losing Sammy, he was afraid of losing Cas, and deep down he was afraid he'd rot in hell one day when Death decided he'd been cheated one-too-many times. Other than that, there wasn't much that gave Dean Winchester nerves, shakes, or tremors.

But standing there gripping Cas in the hotel room, staring as his lips as the angel asked him to kiss him again, Dean realized his gut was tightening and his throat was constricting, and it took more than a little willpower to keep himself from shaking. He was suddenly terrified of what this was, of what was happening, of the look in Castiel's eyes, and the look he knew was on his own. This… This was something he had never let himself think would happen. Now that it was, however it had been started, he realized suddenly that he wanted very much to do it right.

Loosening his vicelike grip on Cas' arms, he licked his lips and swallowed passed the growing lump forming just above his adam's apple.

"Ok."

* * *

The lips of Dean Winchester weren't soft like Castiel had once found himself imagining. In fact, they were slightly cracked and a little rough while also being warm and welcoming.

 _A lot like the hunter himself._ The coherent thought made its whispery self known in Castiel's mind before fading to the sensations that were filling his senses one by one. First had been _sight_ , a tiny, flickering smile on the corner of Dean's lips that was nervousness and a twinge of something else before he closed the space between them, his eyelids falling shut seconds before Cas' followed suit.

Second was _smell_ , the whiff of pure _Dean_ Castiel had the pleasure of inhaling just before their lips met for the second time. Hotel soap and shampoo were the most imminent, but beneath that was the faint tint of leather and car grease, scents that suited Dean Winchester as well as his favorite pair of jeans.

Not unexpectedly, third was touch. Soft pressure and achy deepness that mounted with every new trace of lips and fingertips. A twisting of the mouth. A touch, a swerve. A gliding hand that rose up his sleeved arm and curled in his neck, gripping his jaw and turning his face.

Fourth and fifth, soundandtaste, mixed together when Dean coaxingly pierced Castiel's mouth with his tongue. The sour aftertaste of beer was present there in a strangely not unpleasant way. And a rumbling sort of growl vibrated through their connected skin as it rose up Dean's throat, doing something strange to Cas, to the nerves in his body that felt suddenly activated, transforming every soft brush of a thumbprint into an antithesis of burning fire and shivers of ice.

All of this together made him moan. It was heavenly.

Without thinking, knowing only he wanted to be closer, deeper, Castiel let his free hand rise, winding beneath Dean's and curving around his neck, pulling him near, nearer than he had ever been before. The vibrancy of the hunter's soul, touching Castiel in this angel's sixth sense, was like a feeling he had never felt before. It was colors bright and dark, and it was static light, and it was music spinning around them in sheets and choruses. It was like nothing Castiel could describe with words, but all he knew was that he never wanted to let go… Never wanted to let go of Dean.

Shuddering with willpower, Dean broke the kiss, peeling back and breathing in deep breaths that shook his entire frame. Castiel's own lungs puffed with needed oxygen in slow gasping breaths. But he didn't open his eyes, he kept them shut, trying to memorize every second of the last sixty before bits and pieces could slip away.

The hand that still gripped Cas' forearm released him and draped around his neck instead, drawing their foreheads together. Cas' eyes fluttered open. Dean's were still closed, his mouth open to let in the oxygen, his face smooth and relaxed.

"Dean?" Castiel breathed.

"Mm?"

"I found that very enjoyable."

A twist of their foreheads, skin against skin, and then a shaking started. It came from the hunter's waist and climbed up through his stomach, rising through his throat until a vibrating, almost silent, inescapable, trembling laugh dispersed between them in fits and snorts. Cas watched confusedly, and Dean shook his head against him and pulled back just a bit. "So did I," he admitted with a crooked grin, still chortling.

Euphoria spaced inside Cas' chest, and he felt himself smiling. "Perhaps…" he said. "We should try it again."

A snarky grin replaced the crooked smile. "You need a little more practice?"

"It may be some time before I quite grasp all of the subtleties," Cas admitted. "And… besides which—" He broke himself off, glancing away, not completely able to meet the yellow-green irises of Dean Winchester.

"What?" he asked gently.

His heartrate, which had ebbed a little in the space of breaths since the kiss, kicked into gear again, and Cas found it very uncomfortable. "There is no one on the planet… like you, Dean." There was more to be said, more that he felt, more that he meant, but he wasn't sure how Dean would react to all of these things just yet, so he left it at that and hoped it would be enough.

It was.

Dean's expression sobered and softened. He said, "There's no one quite like you either, Cas," and then he pulled him in again and their mouths connected.


End file.
